


Broken Throne

by CrowLikesShinyThings



Series: Your Hunger Will Consume You [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Reincarnation, Skyrim Main Quest, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowLikesShinyThings/pseuds/CrowLikesShinyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is proud.</p><p>Her rage is neither quiet nor logical. It consumes her in a tidal wave, overpowering her better judgement. The warrior’s soul cries out for blood and fire, and she feeds it without second thought. Her lips pull back to bare jagged fangs, yellow eyes brimming with cruel fire. The blade in her hand thrums with cold fury and righteous indignation. A quick flick of her wrist and blood paints the walls.</p><p>The dragon kings are waking."</p><p>The story of my khajiit dragonborn Mana, written mostly in interconnected drabbles. Note: a bit canon-diverging</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> On ff.net -- https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11728968/1/Broken-Throne  
> Art and stuff -- http://diowarwahl.tumblr.com/tagged/hunger!verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm doing a write-your-protagonist fanfic. But since I've played the quests to death I refuse to just copy and paste the dialogue and relay exactly what happens. That's boring. Anyone who plays the game has a good idea of what happens. So instead I'll be jumping around the place to important scenes where she has interesting thoughts and stuff, and otherwise keep it somewhat short.
> 
> This will probably end up taking me through the main quest, the civil war, dawnguard and dragonborn. Other quests and stuff I might make separate one-shots or drabbles depending on what it is. My dragonborn doesn't do all the questlines anyway -- I play other characters for roleplaying purposes. They might get their own stories too, and they'll definitely appear here.
> 
> Updating might be slow going. This is totally just for fun. And I have a wack-ton of headcanons that I'll be stuffing in here too. I'll probably explain them in notes if I don't during.

_“And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold,_  
_That when brothers wage war come unfurled!_  
_Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound,_  
_With a hunger to swallow the world!”_  
– Song of the Dragonborn

 

* * *

 

 

Mana thought that maybe she should stick to the roads if this is what camping in the woods brings her.

She _did_ possess all the necessary documents and papers needed to cross the border, which she was generally very careful in keeping track of after the complete _disaster_ that had been her first visit into Cyrodiil. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, her papers were snug in her pack, currently several miles away along with the rest of her camp.

Having heard noises in the night, she had gotten up to investigate, only to walk straight into what appeared to be an ambush by the Imperials (which her fellow prisoner moaned about as they huddled in the back of a horse-drawn cart). She’d been caught literally in her underclothes – armor, weapons and _identification papers_ all but forgotten.

They had, of course, not believed a word she said when she tried to explain that she was _not_ a member of the rebel force and was simply a victim of poor circumstance, and that if they just take a short walk she could prove that she was just a traveler and was in no way connected to the war in Skyrim. After all, what human would believe the word of a _Khajiit?_ (This caused her a great deal of bitterness and frustration.)

Mana wondered why she would ever want to come to Skyrim in the first place, especially with tensions running so high. They (being sympathetic bartenders or roaring drunks) warned her that it was dangerous to head north, especially alone. She had arrogantly thought that she could avoid the fighting if she stayed away from the roads and stuck to the wilderness. The wildlife didn’t scare her – she could handle bears and wolves and whatever else lurked beyond civilization.

It had been more than a simple whim, especially with how much preparation she’d gone through. Something about the north pulled her. It had been in the back of her mind since she was young – it was part of the reason she left Pellitine for Anequina. And after many years of living in Dune, she ultimately abandoned it to travel into Cyrodiil and other northern states. For years she had avoided Skyrim because she heard rumors from caravans that their kind were not allowed into cities and that their lands were crawling with monsters, but her curiosity got the better of her eventually. There was something about Skyrim that called out to her. It was infuriating.

Now she cursed her wish to see the north, because it put her in shackles.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been imprisoned. Several years ago when she’d been ghosting through Hammerfell a group of slavers had overwhelmed and captured her. They had wanted to break her spirit before they sold her, so had kept her in the basement of an old fortress they’d taken. She hadn’t seen the sky for months.

When she had finally worked off the restraints, she had slaughtered everyone indiscriminately. It was a bloodbath, and she vividly remembers standing on the top of the fort, swords clenched in her hands, watching the light of dawn over the desert sands, carcasses strewn around her.

The cart rattled, shaking Mana out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, pupils thin slits in the bleak early morning light.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

_Gods give Khajiit patience._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mana’s tail lashed side to side as she stood next to the Stormcloak prisoners. Hers lips continued to twitch and she tried not to bare her fangs, but it was a difficult prospect when she was in line to have her head removed.

 _The Imperials are very fond of drama,_ she thought idly, yellow eyes sweeping over the General as he ranted at his muzzled prisoner. _I suppose this is a moment that they will celebrate in their books until their memories fade._

The man, General Tullius, wanted to believe so badly that he could bring Skyrim peace.

Mana tried not to laugh.

The Khajiit’s ear twitched as an echo came over the mountains and rung through the valley. It sounded like the cries of some great beast. Everyone in the square turned their faces to the sky, but when it fell silent they turned back to the matter in front of them, oblivious.

If Mana’s face was not covered in fur, she would have gone very pale.

_That was…_

Her chest felt cold, and the words of the humans fell away. Something was wrong, very wrong. And yet at the same time, all the fear from her impending execution suddenly lifted. An urge to cry with joy overcame her; it nearly knocked her over in its strength.

“Next, the cat!”

Mana’s eyes locked with the woman-soldier, and the multitude of sharp weapons everyone was holding. For a moment she was brought back into her immediate, and considered the chances she would have at slipping loose and making a run for it. Though after the show they made of the thief, she wasn’t so eager for a repeat performance.

Another of the strange sounds rumbled through the air.

For a moment they forgot the Khajiit, looking over their shoulders. This time a blanket of unease settled over everyone.

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” the soldier who had greeted her off the back of the cart said.

_Fools – something is coming!_

“I said, next prisoner!” the captain snapped, remembering her duty.

The boy’s face was full of compassion and apology, “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

Mana faced the Imperial captain as she stepped forward, but even as she approached the block she could feel no apprehension. The smell of the Stormcloak who had been killed only moments before – his blood was still spilling across the ground – filled her nose. It was thick and heady.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood, her tail erected. She was pushed down onto the stone, knees scraping the harsh cobbles, and turned her face to the blue above. Something in her stomach twisted, and for a moment her heart stopped in her chest.

Above the executioner, beyond the tower keep, a shadow took to air with a great roar.

_That is…_

The Imperials scrambled, giving Mana the perfect view of its great shape swooping through the air. It was as black as the night sky and the shards of its skin looked like obsidian. Her still heart thundered, shaking her chest and causing a shiver to go down her spine.

_**Dovah.** _

Above her the unknowing executioner lifted his axe. The Dov landed on the tower with a great shudder, knocking everyone around it to the ground. Someone screeched, “Dragon!”

Its eyes were on hers. Mana stared into the bright red points, her mouth dry and a dry heave shaking her chest. She could hear whispers in the back of her mind, crowing in happiness. The dragon looked over the assembled crowd, and the euphoria was extinguished, replaced by stone-cold dread. _Oh no._

The Dov opened its black maw; an ear-shredding boom knocked everyone who had been struggling to their feet down again. The sky itself roiled and twisted, fireballs forming in the clouds to rain down on them.

Mana’s ears pressed flat against her head as she fought off a bout of violent nausea, and she struggled to her feet. Her vision was shaky, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the headache that suddenly plagued her, or the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

A voice called to her, and blindly, she turned to follow it.

 

* * *

 

 

She wove through the rubble and hellfire, watching as men fell to the Dov’s fury. For it was obviously enraged, delighting in the carnage and slaughter. What had happened to make it so mad, Mana didn’t know, but as it bust its way into the top of the tower and released a jet of flame that turned a Nord to ash in front of her, she figured it must be something long seated.

If it had its way, no one would leave Helgen alive.

 

* * *

 

 

There was ash in her mouth, smoke in her lungs. It was hard to breathe.

_(“Legends don’t burn down villages.” The man was already down – it ignited his corpse anyway.)_

Words were ringing in her ears. There was probably blood in them.

_(“Toor…Shul!” and there was bright fire, burning against her eyes. Its great wings arced above her head.)_

Hadvar ran in front of her, his armour streaked with blood. Mana was pressed to keep up with him, as her whole body was shaking and her thoughts sluggish.

“Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!”

“We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”

Mana wanted to shout at them, tell them that their petty fight did not matter. _Alduin was coming._

“Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.”

She wanted them all to just _shut up._

Mana turned her eyes to the burning sky again, and the beating of wings. Her mind was splintering, her heart ached. Something was pulling at her, _it wanted her to stay._ But she knew that if she hesitated she would die.

“With me, prisoner. Let’s go!”

Painfully, she turned her gaze away from the mad dragon, and followed Hadvar into the keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: there are two types of dragonborn. The first is blood only, which can be passed genetically -- such as the Septim bloodline with the whole dragonborn emperors and dragonfires and all that kerfuffle. The second type are also dragon in soul: as in they were reincarnated. It can happen out of the blue without warning, and the dragonblood is just with them since birth, without genetics in play. The Last Dragonborn is the second type. (There is more to this headcanon but this is not yet relevant.)


	2. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I play Skyrim with a bunch of different mods, so if there's any specific detail that came directly from a mod I will mention it afterwards *thumbs up*
> 
> Some things to mention about Mana that are relevant:  
> \- She knows a little of a lot of different languages, enough to get by, so while she talks mostly like the other Khajiit she's better practiced at things like pronouns and whatnot  
> \- She is suthay-raht, but is fucking tall. She's 6'4"  
> \- She's 36 but all the non-khajiits think she's a lot younger since she hasn't started graying yet

_“When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_  
_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_  
_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_  
_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_  
_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_  
_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.”_  
– The Prophecy of the Dragonborn

 

* * *

 

 

The Khajiit listened to Hadvar talk with one ear, the other still focused on the sounds of carnage right above them. The Nord had led her down into the keep, where they hopefully wouldn’t be scorched by fire.

The boy still seemed to be in shock that a dragon had attacked them. She had to hand it to him though – even when his mind was uncomprehending his body had gone right into action, saving not his own life but trying to save the lives of others as well. A soft heart like that was going to get him killed one day.

Mana rubbed her wrists when he cut through her bindings, hissing at the raw skin underneath. There was blood in her fur. Now that circulation returned to her hands, she started to stretch her fingers by repeatedly making fists as the man looted through nearby chests and drawers for anything useful.

She swept through the rest of the room, opening containers and looking for something to throw on. The only useful gear available was light Imperial amour, which made her lip curl in distaste. She didn’t want to be wearing faction armour, but she hardly had a choice at this point. Survival was first priority – getting some decent gear came second. Besides, it would be easier to maneuver in, seeing as they needed to get out of Helgen as soon as possible. She could get something heavier in a nearby town – that is, if it wasn’t being attacked either.

As she slipped it on over the ragged clothes they had given her when they captured her, she also noticed that it was a bit small for her, and the chest area very tight. Only the male amours would fit her length-wise (as she was taller than most men), and that meant sacrificing some space breadth-wise. She was going to have to start binding her chest again. Mana cursed her rotten luck that made it so all of her belongings were lost in the woods. Some wild animal was going to get into her food supplies and probably ruin everything else, not to mention damage through exposure, so it wasn’t even worth the effort to go back.

Thankfully if it was one thing she was good at, it was accruing funds. A few card games at a local inn and she would be set to go.

Humans were terrible at reading non-human faces.

“You ready?” Hadvar asked as she took two of the iron swords off the rack. She fixed both of them over her back instead of putting them at her waist – she didn’t like how her tail hit swords sheathed there. Mana inclined her head towards him, who turned towards the gate leading to the innards of the keep. He obviously thought there was some back entrance, otherwise they would be trapped down there.

 

* * *

 

 

The Stormcloaks were dumber than she thought if they were that concerned about their petty war when a dragon was still circling the land above them. On the other hand, Hadvar was turning out to be a decent person, which both simultaneously made her happy and annoyed.

At least she got a shield out of the skirmish.

 

* * *

 

 

The tunnel collapsed behind them. Alduin’s roar echoed through the rubble. Mana nearly had a heart attack. Now there really was no turning back.

Not that she would have. It felt like something was pulling her forward, and she wanted to know what it was.

It felt strangely like destiny.

 

* * *

 

 

They stopped to catch their breath in the dungeons. Mana felt like it was going to take weeks to get the smell of blood out of her nose. Though by the rate things were proceeding, maybe she was going to be spilling so much of it that it would never be truly gone. Already in the course of one day she had seen more death and destruction than she had in years.

After trading in her shield for a better one and belting a dagger, a book on the small table in the middle of the room caught her eye. The Imperial symbol was on the cover, and when she flipped it open, ‘Book of the Dragonborn’ meeting her eyes, she decided to take it with her. Maybe it was a whim, but somehow it felt important.

It made her think about the last thing she had heard the dragon shout before she had slammed the door to the keep behind her.

_‘Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki.’_

While she had no idea what that meant, it still filled her with an instinctual sort of dread.

Mana felt conflicted. While there was something clearly terrifying about the black Dov, she couldn’t help but feel … _excited._ Now that the immediate danger aboveground had passed, the oddly light feeling from before was returning, though it came with a fair share of fear.

Also, there was something else that bothered her.

How the _hell_ had she known the dragon’s name?

 

* * *

 

 

Idiot Nords.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes Mana wished she was a mage, because that would have made smiting cave spiders a whole lot easier.

They may or may not freak her out a little. Though you would never hear her admit that out loud.

 

* * *

 

 

The taste of snow and the far off smell of smoke greeted them as they made it outside. Mana squinted into the light, feeling gritty and dirty. It was barely noon.

The fur on the back of her neck stood up.

“Wait,” Hadvar hushed her quickly, dropping to the ground to press his back to a stone table. Mana followed him wordlessly and crouched behind him as a shadow passed over the ground.

A subdued roar echoed in the crisp morning air, causing them both to shudder. When she peered over the boulder she could just make out the dragon flying off towards the north. By the sound he had made, his bloodlust had been sated – for now.

Something told her it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.

“Looks like he’s gone for good this time,” the boy breathed a sigh of relief and stood up on shaky knees, trying to give her a reassuring smile, “But I don’t think we should stick around to see if he comes back.”

The Khajiit narrowed her eyes at the now empty sky as the forest sounds returned, “Agreed.”

“Listen, we should probably split up–”

“No, we would only make ourselves more vulnerable,” Mana shook her head, “Besides, after that, do you really want to be alone in the wilds?”

The boy seemed surprised, and it looked like his pride was wrestling with his fear. “Not really,” he admitted, “There’s a village nearby through. Riverwood – I grew up there, so I know the area well. I’m sure my uncle Alvor can help us.”

“Then Khajiit will accompany you there,” Mana nodded.

“You already saved my life today,” Hadvar chuckled, “But thank you anyway.”

“And you saved Mana from becoming breakfast. The debt is paid.”

That just made him laugh more.

 

* * *

 

 

“See that ruin up there? That’s Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a boy that place always used to give me nightmares – draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing. I admit I still don't much like the look of it.”

While Mana agreed (the sight of it gave her an ominous feeling), it also peaked her interest. Dungeon-delving was an old hobby of hers.

 

* * *

 

 

“Those are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape,” Hadvar motioned towards the three clustered monoliths they had come across.

Mana stepped between them, letting her palm trail over the carved surfaces. They were cool and smooth to the touch, but she could faintly sense a power emanating from them. It was like they were reaching out to her.

While she didn’t recognize the pictures, she knew the constellations they were drawn around. Her people didn’t always keep track of what sign they were born under – the moons were their judgement, not the stars.

The Nord seemed to find her curiosity endearing, “Do you know what sign you were born under?”

“Khajiit finds it difficult to remember,” Mana frowned at the stones slightly. Her feet brought her back towards the Warrior. She felt a certain resonance with it. “But I think it might have been this one.”  
  
It seemed to please him. “I knew you shouldn’t have been on that cart the minute I laid eyes on you.”

She sent him a deadpan glare, though it was more scornful than angry, “Because a Khajiit working with Nord rebels was likely.”

Hadvar gave her a sheepish grimace, “I think it might have been more because of … well, you know.”

“Because they thought Mana was a thief?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mana brushed aside the old fury that was rising in her chest. At least he was polite about it.

 

* * *

 

 

As the duo approached the town, Hadvar said to Mana quietly, “Listen, as far as I'm concerned you've already earned your pardon. But until we get that confirmed by General Tullius, just stay clear of other Imperial soldiers and avoid any complications, all right?”

“It will be easier when Mana can get some decent armour,” she snorted, “Isn’t it a crime to impersonate an Imperial officer?”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t want to be caught without identification papers again, don’t you? It’s a good thing Nords don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

He did have a point.

As they passed through the walls into the village, both were relieved to find it untouched. Mana’s ears twitched as an old woman started shouting about the dragon she had seen fly over the town, only to be quickly shushed by her son. News had yet to spread – how many had made it out alive?

“Things look quiet enough here. Come on. There's my uncle."

 

* * *

 

 

Mana was happy enough to agree to help them. She hadn’t wanted to stick around anyway, and her quest would help grant her access to a major city.

( _“We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you’re carrying a message, then they’ll have to let you into the city even though they normally turn your kind away. If you’ll do that for me, I’ll be in your debt.”_ )

While Alvor was willing to provide her food and lodging, it didn’t help the small issue of funds and equipment. He had agreed to let her use his forge to modify her amour, but said that he couldn’t give away anything for free. He still had to make a living after all.

So that evening she holed up in the Sleeping Giant Inn, quickly overtaking everyone at cards.

So far only the Bosmer man they had invited in halfway through was giving her any sort of issue, but after a few plays she scooped up the small fortune she had gotten from them. The elf seemed to take it in good stride and simply laughed at her smug expression, mentioning he hadn’t played a game like that in years. It sounded like he had everyone in the town beaten, and was why they had grinned like predators at her when she asked to be dealed in. They had thought her easy prey – hah!

Mana also caught the owner of the establishment smiling in amusement behind the local’s backs when they weren’t looking. She and the Khajiit shared a glance, the woman snorting at the fanged grin Mana was sporting behind the rim of her mug.

 

* * *

 

 

Mana was getting a weird sense of déjà vu. The local wolves were just as vicious as the hyenas of Anequina.

 

* * *

 

 

The Khajiit approached the Whiterun gates with a sour taste in her mouth. There was wolf blood on her armour, but humans had terrible noses and wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between that and human blood. Similar things had barred her entrance to certain places in years past.

Fortunately, it seemed people covered in blood approaching the gates were a common occurrence in Skyrim, because the guards didn’t say anything about it. They did, however, narrow their eyes at her and pointedly stare.

“Halt! City’s closed with dragons about. Official business only,” the guard told her, but the prickling feeling he was giving her made her think that even if there were no dragons he wouldn’t want to let her in anyway.

“Riverwood is in need of the Jarl’s assistance,” Mana said politely, reaching into her pack to pull out the letter Alvor had given her to prove her claim. The guard took it from her and skimmed it, before handing it back.

“You better go on in then. You'll find the Jarl at Dragonsreach, atop the hill. But keep in mind we’ll be keeping an eye on you. No wrong moves, Khajiit.”

Mana was tempted to snarl at him, but she had gotten what she wanted. It wasn’t worth the effort.

 

* * *

 

 

Truthfully, the dark elf who served as the Jarl’s housecarl seemed like a no-nonsense woman. Mana liked that.

On the other hand, she really didn’t like being questioned at sword-point. At least Irileth sheathed her sword when Mana stated her business.

The good news was that they didn’t seem like the sort of people to kill the messenger.

The bad news was that they weren’t going to like what she had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been pretty bummed out about not being able to explore Tamriel in ESO. I'm not interested in the mmo part, but the worldbuilding. I've been seeing all these screenshots and it's driving me crazy. I got the game itself on sale and they stopped the mandatory monthly prescription but noooo my internet has to be fucking horrible so I can't stay connected to the server for more than 30 seconds *flips table*
> 
> Translations:  
> Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki – your soul will feed (my) hunger
> 
> I hadn't actually heard that one in game but rather found it on a wiki, and thought it was too cool to leave it out.


	3. Bleak Falls Barrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo we got our internet fixed ... just in time for me to find out one of the recent updates in ESO made it unplayable on my computer *throws laptop out window*

_“Grand temples were built to honor the dragons and appease them. Many of them survive today as ancient ruins haunted by draugr and undead dragon priests.”_ – The Dragon War

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mana was a mercenary by trade. She didn’t keep that a secret. Everyone had to make a living in some fashion, and in her youth her talent had laid with slicing people into tiny pieces, so she had made a career from it. Even after she had left her homeland to travel Tamriel, she picked up jobs like that often as a way to make extra coin while also being able to explore her surroundings.

However she was still a little peeved by the things that the Jarl’s pet mage was implying. To him she was little more than cannon fodder. He wouldn’t care all that much if she were to fail and get herself killed trying to retrieve this ‘Dragonstone’. It was true that the mage did not owe her in that regard, he was not compelled to care about her wellbeing – it was the way he acted superior to her, and that rubbed her nerves the wrong way.

To give the Jarl credit, it certainly seemed like he had asked her to do this because he sized her up to be someone who could handle herself. He seemed like the sort of person that respected strength and independence. And the way that he had ordered a detachment to Riverwood with no hesitation, despite his advisor telling him that it could have been seen as an act of war, made it clear that his people were his highest priority. Mana already respected him.

It did bring up the question of why the caravans were still being denied access, but it was just as likely that he didn’t want them disrupting trade, or bringing in Skooma. Because if there was one rumor that was mostly true, it was that Khajiit kept it in abundance. Speaking of which, she was going to have to buy some moon sugar from them, if she could find them. Everything tasted better with sugar.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The bad news was that Mana had already burned through her hard-earned money, and hadn’t realized that until she was leaving Dragonsreach.

The good news… well, she hadn’t figured that one out yet.

Mana was a little grumpy, mostly because she was tired and sore and hadn’t eaten properly since that morning. She had spent the majority of her money on buying simple commodities and basic gear. The iron armour that she was wearing was mostly patched together to fit her larger frame – Alvor hadn’t had anything else suitable and having something custom made would have been much too expensive. Even though she had pawned a lot of money from those villagers, they were just that: villagers. Money didn’t flow in the country like it did in the city.

It was getting late, and she didn’t think she had enough money to rent a room at one of the inns. Tomorrow her goal was to find some coin – if they would let her in the doors at all, that was. Just because she had access to the city didn’t mean they would do business with her or trust her not to cheat.

Hopefully no one would try to kick her out of the park below the palace. She’d slept in worse places than on a bench.

It was as she was mulling over her options that she nearly tripped over a human. Mana stepped back hastily, dipping her head in apology before moving to step past the short woman (though admittedly most humans were short to Mana).

As she stepped away the woman reached out and grasped her by the forearm, “Wait!”

Mana paused, turning her head to stare down at the girl. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied into a braid, and she was dressed as a warrior. But her armour wasn’t of Nordic origin (Breton maybe), and the slight buzz in the air told Mana that the woman was a magic-user of some sort – a spell-sword? “…Yes?” she questioned hesitantly.

“Please, allow me to help, you seem exhausted,” the girl said. Her bright blue eyes were soft and honest, and voice kind. Mana immediately had a good feeling about this stranger – and that in itself was a rarity. Maybe Skyrim wasn’t as inhospitable as she had been led to believe after all, dragons notwithstanding. “We can get you something to eat at the inn, I’m sure they’ll be more welcoming if you had someone to accompany you.”

“Mana doubts it,” the Khajiit snorted, “But I appreciate your offer. Unfortunately Khajiit has no gold to pay.”

“No matter, I am happy to pay your tab,” the woman laughed good-naturedly.

“This one is a kind soul,” a purr rolled through Mana’s chest as she smiled in return, “My name is Mana, what is yours?”

“Alaya Dawnbreaker,” the girl told her, “Now come with me, it’s been a long day, has it not?”

“Oh, yes,” Mana chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn’t often that people would be so welcoming to strangers, but Mana got the feeling that Alaya genuinely enjoyed helping people. The Breton was also an outsider in Skyrim, so she probably empathized with travelers as well. Either way, Mana got food and a room out of the deal, so she didn’t care to nitpick her motivations.

She did feel a little bad that after paying for two people, Alaya seemed to be in the same position Mana was in. That was why Mana spent most of the night playing with the local drunkards and a few noblemen who came down to the inn for the ‘experience’. Mana was one satisfied feline after a few hours of this. She would even have enough to get a set of armour forged, and be able to buy supplies for her trek up to Bleak Falls Barrow.

Speaking of which, Mana asked Alaya if she would like to accompany her up into the mountains. The Breton seemed intrigued, though hesitant to venture into a burial ground. Humans were very touchy about their dead. She offered to split the bounty from the Jarl and any treasure they came across – as both of them were in need of money Alaya had agreed to split the bounty, but told her she could keep the treasure.  
  
During their conversation Mana also learned that Alaya was in Whiterun because she was aiming to join the local mercenary guild, though these Companions would probably consider themselves more of a ‘warriors’ guild. Mana was tempted to join them as well – if she was staying in the province for an extended amount of time it might be a good thing to use Whiterun as a base. It was in the center of Skyrim for easy travel, and with ties to the Companions she would have access to work and the full scope of the city. The Khajiit had done something similar with the Fighter’s Guild in Cyrodiil. Mana got the feeling that Alaya was interested in joining them for a vastly different reason though, if her talk of honor was anything to go by.

The other thing Mana learned about Alaya was that she was trained as a healer. Specifically, she was a paladin – a warrior who used holy magic to support themselves and their comrades. Alaya was a religious woman, but she didn’t seem to be affiliated with the Vigilants of Stendarr.

Either way, despite their differences, Alaya seemed to be a good person. Mana liked her, and felt that it might be good to have the Breton at her back.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Why do you keep looking at the sky?”

Mana tore her eyes from above them to look questioningly at the Breton who kept pace with her, despite her much shorter legs. They were halfway to Riverwood and would likely arrive that evening if nothing held them up. It was a much harder journey when going uphill, Mana noticed. Skyrim had a very extreme landscape when it came to hills and slopes. At least there were clear roads.

“Mana is keeping an eye out for dragons,” she shrugged.

 _“Dragons?”_ Alaya looked alarmed, “I thought they were just stories – you mean the guards were being _serious?”_

“Unfortunately,” Mana nodded, “Khajiit saw one with her own eyes. It burned Helgen to the ground.”

Alaya was awestruck, and seemed a little unnerved, “I – by the Nine that’s _insane_. I mean, I don’t believe that you’re lying, that’s just not something you hear every day!”

Mana snorted, “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was another few hours before they reached Riverwood, and during that time Alaya asked her more questions about the dragon she had seen, and the circumstances in which she had seen it. For discreetness’s sake she kept some of the details to herself, such as the presence of the civil war leaders and the fact that Mana was now technically a fugitive.

They stopped back in the village for a few reasons, the first of which was that they needed to gather some more supplies. The shop in Whiterun hadn’t carried enough of something Mana was looking for, especially now that she had to account for two people, so it wasn’t a big deal to drop in another shop. It also wouldn’t hurt to ask for directions up to the barrow.

It seemed like luck was on her side for once, since the store owner was not only willing to trade with her, but was also looking for someone to head up to the ruin. Mana was definitely not going to turn down that offer, especially when he was offering that much, and it wouldn’t be out of her way.

Alvor was more than happy to let them rest at his house for the night, and was especially happy to hear that his message had not only been delivered, but had been taken seriously. A great deal of stress seemed to leave him when she told him that a troupe of soldiers was on its way.

Feeling somewhat accomplished, Mana ended the day on a high note.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The bandits camping on the path up the mountain and out in front of the temple were dispatched easily between the two of them. Mana kept an eye on Alaya as they fought – she was much younger than the Khajiit and therefore less experienced. To her relief, Alaya was proficient with her mace and shield combination, and her armour was built in such a way that it gave her mobility that heavy armour normally obstructed.

It seemed that both of them prized flexibility, though also favored heavier defense. Mana’s armour had been custom fit to give her an extended movement range, which was especially helpful with her fighting style, which was far less rigid than human styles. Most Khajiit preferred lighter armour, so Mana sought to mimic the usefulness of less armour while keeping her important bits covered.

Alaya came jogging back towards her, panting heavily and hair somewhat mussed from exertion and the wind. It seemed the higher altitude was tiring her quickly. “What – are you not even tired?” she accused somewhat indignantly.

Mana gave a loud laugh, “Khajiit has long since gotten used to fighting in high places!”

A smile threatened to break out across the human’s face, “That makes it sound like you have stories about this sort of thing. How did you even learn to fight like that?”

The Khajiit tapped her nose and grinned, “Mana has been fighting since she was big enough to climb. Khajiit was trained to use both swords and claws, and became very skilled. I even used to work as a mercenary – still do occasionally.”

“A mercenary, really?” the Breton seemed interested, “I pegged you more as an adventurous type.”

“Oh yes, Mana is an adventurer _now_ , but I had to fill my belly somehow!” she chuckled, “And I have always been better at fighting than talking.”

“Heh,” Alaya gave a short laugh of amusement, “I can drink to that.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Their day took a darker turn when they started getting into the bowels of the crypt.

The place was _swarming_ with undead.  
  
Mana usually enjoyed plumbing the depths of tombs, it was something of a favorite past time. The excitement and single-minded violence that dungeon delving gave her soothed some part of her that craved destruction, while the promise of shiny treasures made it easy to make into a living. It was safe to say that Mana was rather experienced in this area, which was why she wasn’t all that surprised to find draugr, and in turn be annoyed by it.

She didn’t like fighting animate corpses. Not only did they smell foul, but they made the air feel unclean, and when she cut them they didn’t bleed. They were just a nuisance.

Alaya was also in her element here – her white magic was efficient at clearing out large crowds of undead, burning through them with concentrated holy fire. Between the two of them they were able to sweep through the tunnels with ease.

So even as they unsealed the door to the inner sanctum, they weren’t all that concerned about what they might find – which might not have been a good idea, considering what they found.

Mana’s skull already felt like it was splitting, electric sparks travelling down her neck and through her teeth. The wall had called her – she had started to hear its thrum halfway through the crypt. The magic in the air had been pulsing like a heartbeat, or a drum of war. And when she approached the great wall at the end of the tomb, all sounds had been drowned out by a loud roaring, and then pain.

And that’s when they were attacked by something stronger, something that actually posed a challenge.  
  
The draugr they were fighting didn’t seem all that tough, but it possessed the ability to shout – in the sense that it had almost knocked both Alaya and Mana to the ground with the strength of its voice.  
  
It felt like Mana’s mind was burning, but she pushed through it to bring her blade down on the draugr’s neck, cutting through its ribcage. It made a strangled noise on dry vocal cords and tried to shout at her again, but Alaya came behind it and smashed her mace into its skull, white fire nearly blinding, and crushed it instantly.

As soon as the now completely dead corpse crumpled to the ground, Mana’s legs gave. She dropped to her knees, resting her sword on the stone so she could press the heel of her palm into her brow. Something felt wrong – _and why had she been hearing voices._

The healer rushed to her side, placing her own weapon down so she could reach out to her. “Mana, are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“No–” Mana was overcome by sudden violent nausea, which had her back bowed while she waited it out. Thankfully she did not lose her lunch, and when it passed she struggled to her feet with the help of her companion. “Mana is… okay. I feel better now.”

“What happened, are you sure you’re fine?” Alaya questioned worriedly.

“Yes, Khajiit is fine, it must be something I ate,” the Khajiit lied smoothly.

The magic in the air was fading, and she had a feeling that it wasn’t that she was going crazy – but rather the world was going crazy around her.

 

* * *

 

 

On their way back to Riverwood, the only thing Mana could think about was the word the wall had given her. She repeated it again and again in her mind, mouthing it, feeling the weight of it, how it sat on her tongue like a stone.

There was magic to it, that much she could tell. It was a word of power, and she could even guess the origin (considering the text had looked like claw marks and the fact she was there to fetch a tablet with dragon lore on it). The question was why did it only affect her, and not Alaya?

Admittedly, it bothered her a great deal.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mana almost forgot to give the shop keeper his ‘claw’ back – Alaya had to remind her.

They spent another night in Alvor’s home, but when she slept her dreams were fitful and filled with dark shapes and strange noises.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It took them another day to get back to Whiterun. All this walking was getting exhausting, not to mention time-consuming – as soon as she was able she was going to invest in getting one of those sturdy northern horses. She used to have a colovian breed, but the poor animal wouldn’t have been able to handle Skyrim’s harsh climate and dangerous terrain, so she had sold him off before heading north.

The two of them trekked back up to Dragonsreach, wanting to cash in their reward immediately. Alaya had mentioned that if they were accepted to the Companions they wouldn’t need to rent rooms anymore since they would be housed at Jorrvaskr, which was yet another reason Mana was warming up to the idea.

It seemed that the court wizard had a visitor, and they waited politely for them to finish their conversation. Mana wasn’t really one to eavesdrop, but couldn’t help but be intrigued by what they were discussing. The woman in the hood especially interested her – it wasn’t often that shady persons worked with figures of power. As it wasn’t really her business, she decided not to question it further.

When Farengar set his sights on the towering Khajiit, she was clearly able to see the surprise on his face. He didn’t even bother to mask this, even making reference to her potential death. Mana decided to be polite and just hand over the tablet. At least the stranger seemed alright, giving her the verbal equivalent of an approving nod.

Just as she was about to inquire about their reward (they needed the money dammit), the four of them were interrupted by the Jarl’s housecarl.

“Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon’s been sighted nearby,” Irileth stopped just outside the archway, looking grim and tired. When she saw the warrior and the paladin she seemed to come to the mental conclusion that they were fighters of some caliber, “You should come too.”

As the others started running off, Mana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “They’ll probably send us to fight it. Khajiit was looking forward to actually _sleeping_ tonight.”

Alaya tried to stifle a snort and failed. “Worry not my friend. The adrenaline should keep you awake. And besides, it’s not every day you get to battle a _dragon_ , is it?”

“I think it likely you may reconsider your words soon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... was actually longer than I thought it would be.
> 
> OK SO IMPORTANT NOTE HERE: Alaya is not a character of mine, she actually belongs to my friend Unicorn. We have a side story for this 'verse going that was an edited rp, which is why I didn't go super into detail with character dialogue with her, because we already did that there. Alaya is not a recurring character in Broken Throne. If anything she'll stick around for maybe 1 more chapter and then I might make reference to her time to time, and she might appear again in the civil war. So, yeah, we'll see. 
> 
> Go read Winter Nights, we're super proud of it, and it's even illustrated!


	4. Dragon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? My computer’s hard drive got fried. BUT the tech guy was able to get my files off it. Well, some of them, not all. I lost some things, but nothing essential. It DOES mean that I have to re-mod literally all my games on this new computer (my mom’s old laptop). Ironically enough this one is more powerful than my old one, which means that I can play ESO! I haven’t gotten too far, but I was having a blast mucking about in Khenarthi’s Roost. So pretty.

_“For the mighty roars of the beasts, even when those roars contained fire, or ice, or some other deadly magic, were actually much more - they were words. Words in an ancient, though decipherable, tongue.”_  
– Dragon Language: Myth no More

 

* * *

 

 

The mage babbled on as they made their way up to the second level of Dragonsreach, asking a dozen or so inane questions that made Mana consider whether or not to smack him over the head with her armoured fist. Thankfully the Dunmer told him to shut his mouth.

Anticipation crawled down her spine, and Mana was glad she was still in her armour, or else the way her fur was standing on end would have been obvious. It was telling enough that her tail was lashing in agitation – the thought of facing another dragon making her gut twist.

For all her joking, and for all of her companion’s eagerness for glory, Mana was nervous about the upcoming fight. The others hadn’t seen what that dragon had done to Helgen, the single-minded destruction, the rage and fire. Dragons were not monsters to be slain by noble heroes, like Alaya seemed to be thinking, nor were they beasts to be put down when they became threats. They were forces of nature, and should be respected and feared as such.

Every culture had stories about the dragons and the terror they posed. Out of all the stories she had heard during her travels, the arrogance of men and mer was never ending. In her youth preserved legends impressed upon her that these proud beings were an integral part of the world, great predators, and should not be provoked. Of course those legends had been used to teach the importance of knowing one’s standing in the universe; no one had expected that the dragons would _return_.

Mortal races had long forgotten the truth of dragons, and they were far from prepared to deal with them now, as was made abundantly clear by the Nords in front of her. Mana knew if she was in charge, she would have had them abandon that tower and hunker down underground. So maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t in charge after all, but still. Her priority was _living_.

Which didn’t explain why she had agreed to investigate said tower. Maybe the high altitude was getting to her after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Mana’s childhood, while not _peaceful_ , had been luxurious.

The city of Torval was near the border of Valenwood. They had borrowed Bosmeri building techniques to create a sprawling, multi-tiered city in the thick jungle. She had been born into one of the rich merchant clans, affording her opportunities few could claim to have. Despite all of this, the moment she became an adult, Mana had packed her bags and left.

Nothing tragic had happened in her family. They had even asked her to stay. She had loved them all very much, and was heartbroken to leave. Mana couldn’t stand another day there all the same – because while Torval had been beautiful, and her family was likely still waiting for her to return, it hadn’t felt like _home_.

It was difficult to see the sky in the Tenmar Forest.

Something about the jungle made her feel closed in and slightly claustrophobic. The stress of being contained had made Mana a very grumpy child. For years the only thing she had wished was to be able to _leave_ , and once she had gotten her wish she had cast aside everything from her childhood to escape.

The only link back to Torval had been her brother Azsha. They weren’t actually littermates, rather cousins in the same clan, but had been raised together. He had not wanted her to go alone and insisted on coming with her, and for a long time it was just the two of them.

A year ago, they had gotten into a huge fight. Azsha had wanted to go home and see their family again, stop traveling now that their youth was behind them, settle down even. He wanted to find someone and have a family. Mana did not.

They had shouted until their throats were raw, and then went their separate ways. Azsha had probably joined a caravan heading south, while she made her way north. They were literally on opposite sides of the continent.

Mana couldn’t help but think about some of the awful things she had said to Azsha the last time they met, as Irileth spoke with her soldiers. It would be a poor way to apologize to be eaten by a dragon. She had intended to go back eventually and make up with him, but she couldn’t do that dead.

So she would just have to kill the dragon first.

 

* * *

 

 

Mana kept her bow poised as she and Alaya slunk towards the watchtower. The paladin was guarding her back, her own bow in hand so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Smoke and ash was on the wind, the scent of burnt flesh now hauntingly familiar to the Khajiit.

“It’s so dark, I can’t see anything,” Alaya muttered from behind her.

The Khajiit couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Humans had terrible night vision. While her own wasn’t perfect, it was much better than her friend’s. The embers were helpful in that they provided some light, and it was a clear night so the ground was bathed in silvery moonlight. To her, it was almost as good as day time.

As they made their way up the bridge to the tower, a guard came rushing out. He was pale and sweaty, eyes darting around the sky as he searched for wings in the night – terrified, in short.

Alaya rushed to his side as Mana glanced at his sword skeptically. Did he really plan to defend himself against a dragon with a short-range weapon?

“Are you alright?” the healer asked in concern, magic lighting up her fingers.

“No, there’s no time!” the guard snapped at her, glancing over his shoulder at the tower, “It’s still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!”

Alaya looked back at the Khajiit, her face stern, “It’s picking them off one by one.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mana rumbled, “Go into the tower, heal anyone who is injured. You can attack from the windows – aim for his wings, try to ground him.”

“Right,” she nodded.

The guard began to tremble, “Kynareth save us, here he comes again!”

A roar echoed through the valley, causing everyone to flinch. “Find cover and make every arrow count!” she heard Irileth shout. Mana whipped her head around, just in time to see the dragon swoop past the tower, wind buffeting those on the bridge as he beat his powerful wings.

He gave a great bellowing roar that shook the earth. Mana could make out pale scales shining with moonlight, bright yellow eyes burning in the darkness. His streamlined body was smooth and cut through the air with ease, like the lord of sky that he was.

This was not the black dragon from Helgen.

Mana bit back a hiss of sudden anger, knocking an arrow as he dipped and circled the tower, bellowing fire so the grass around them burned. A few of the guards on the ground scattered, yelling and ducking behind chunks of stone that had been knocked from the tower.

The dragon’s voice became louder, enough that she could hear him speak. **“Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!”** He wheeled around the tower another time. Mana took a breath, waiting for the time to strike. It came as he stopped his glide, hovering in place with strong down-strokes. She let the arrow fly along with a dozen from the other guards.

Most of the arrows bounced harmlessly off his scales, though a few ripped through the thin membrane of his wings. The dragon shook his head and pushed himself forward, flying too fast for them to get a hit in.

**“Krif krin. Pruzah!”**

He was laughing at them.

Mana jumped from the bridge, landing between some of the stones. She pressed her back to one and drew another arrow as the dragon swooped overhead, roar shaking her body down to the bones. She narrowed her eyes as another burst of firelight nearly blinded her.

When the fire died, she leapt out of her cover and shot the arrow towards the underside of his wings. He shook all of them off, swinging his massive head towards where she was ducking behind another stone.

The dragon only seemed amused and shot another blast of concentrated flame towards a guard that hadn’t hid in time. Mana flinched as the man’s death screams were cut short.

The Khajiit nearly jumped out of her skin as Irileth’s back hit the stone next to her. The Dunmer was breathing harshly, red eyes alight with adrenaline and fury. “That damn dragon is mocking us,” Irileth growled.

 **“Brit grah. I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!”** the dragon spoke as though he had heard her.

Both of their attention was drawn to the watchtower as several guards came howling out, weapons drawn. Irritation prickled at her – were they trying to get themselves killed, drawing attention to themselves like that? Idiot Nords.

Sure enough, the dragon zeroed in on them. He hovered in front of them, teeth bared in pleasure. **“You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron.”**

Irileth hauled herself up so she was visible over the stone. _“Now!”_ she shouted.

A volley of arrows screamed through the night air, causing the dragon to screech as they tore through his wings. He tried to fly back into the air and out of range, but the tearing was significant enough that he was drawn back down. Mana watched as he collided with the top of the tower, loose stones falling to the ground as his claws and injured wings scratched against its surface.  
  
Mana jumped to action, unmindful of Irileth’s shout for her to stop, and sprinted back up the bridge of the watchtower, discarding her bow and drawing her blade as she went. The tower shook as she made her way up the stairs two at a time.

In the floor below the roof she met Alaya, who also had her weapon drawn. The Breton looked surprised to see her there and opened her mouth to say something.

“Mana will keep his focus! Keep your shield raised and attack his wings!” she barked at the paladin, whose jaw snapped shut with a click. Her blue eyes became steely as she nodded. “Stay clear of his tail,” Mana added as the tower trembled again, dust raining down on them. Screams and the smell of fire tore through the dark.

The Khajiit’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, eyes narrowing to slits as she made her way onto the roof, keeping low to the ground so the dragon wouldn’t see her immediately. She watched as he took one of the remaining guards into his mouth, teeth clamping down over the man’s head and torso, and whipped him side to side violently before flinging him off the roof.

Embers and ash floated through the air around her as she sprinted forward, blade poised and aimed towards the fleshy patch of skin between the thick scales on the top and bottom of his neck. It sunk through with little resistance. A fine mist of blood sprayed her in the face, the sharp smell of blood filling her nose.

The dragon roared and thrashed his neck. Mana avoided the thick column of muscle by rolling under his throat, aiming at the underside as she went. The second cut wasn’t as deep as the first, but it still got past the dragon’s natural defenses. She would have thought that dragonskin would be able to deflect simple steel, but at this point in time it didn’t occur to her, nor would she have cared.

Mana heard a yell over the dragon’s screeching and caught a glimpse of Alaya smashing her mace down on the junction of bones that made up his wrist. He sneered and tried to knock her off the roof with his wing, but Alaya managed to dodge at the last second, deflecting the blow with her shield. This gave Mana an opening, and she slashed at his right eye, more blood spraying from the wound.

The dragon’s head swung back around to her. His neck constricted, air rushing into his lungs. _**“Yol Toor Shul!”**_ the dragon Shouted, fire spilling off his tongue and towards the Khajiit. She raised her shield to take the brunt of it, hiding her head behind the cover while her armor took the rest. The inferno seemed to roll off her – as though she was a stone in the middle of a river of flame.

Just as the metal encasing her body began to heat, the dragon snapped his jaw shut. Alaya had charged in bellowing a war cry, and smashed him over the snout, right in the nose. Sparks erupted from his windpipe, but before he could get his bearings again, which would be difficult with the wound in his eye, Mana dove under his chin and thrust her sword up and into his windpipe.

Her sword vibrated as the dragon keened in pain. She hitched it and slashed forward, sending blood splattering onto the stone.

 **“Dovahkiin?! NO!!”** he shrieked, staggering. Alaya dove in and pushed them out of the way as the dragon thrashed in agony, gurgling and hissing.

Blood poured onto the ground as the dragon spasmed, and then fell still. Mana watched it with wide eyes as the body seemed to bleed magic and life into the air. Alaya’s hands gripped her arms, her own blue eyes locked onto the corpse in awe and disbelief.

Mana let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The dragon was dead. They were alive. They had _won_.

There was a sudden surge of energy, filling the air around them with the taste of ozone and magic. The two warriors stilled, fearing that the dragon would rise again and extract revenge. Instead, his scales began to glow the colour of burnished gold, and _melted._

The Khajiit gasped as the fire-bright magic rose from the dragon’s bones, and into _her._ The light _burned_ like fire and ice, filling her ears with a terrible howling, the violent chattering of thousands of voices pressing against the inside of her skull.

Mana **screamed.**

Her breath caught in her throat, hot air pluming in the chilled night as the fever rose. The core of her body felt like a furnace, where the light was pooling like oil. Mana could hear ancient voices chanting as she trembled.

The Khajiit’s vision blurred. Her sense of time and space distorted as powerful images came to her, of burning skies and falling stars. She was carving through the night sky as her brethren fell one by one around her. Rage and grief consumed her from the inside – a dark insidious hole in her ribcage that could only be filled with blood.

Something brushed against her, the part of her that was convulsing in pain and fear. It was primal and timeless, familiar in a way that made her body shake. He was **Mirmulnir** , and his soul curled around her own, their thoughts and emotions blending.

 **‘Release me,’** he whispered to her, **‘Use the Word to focus.’**

 _What_ word? She wanted to ask. It was difficult to concentrate inside the eye of the storm. Part of her wanted to surrender to it, lose herself and cast aside physical reality. Memories were slipping through her fingers; she was forgetting who she was.

 _ **‘Fus,’**_ the dragon rumbled, Voice like rolling thunder.

 **‘Fus,’** she repeated, an echo of memory returning.

 **‘No, Dovahkiin, _Fus,_ ’** said Mirmulnir.

The word resonated with her soul. It was the word from the wall, the one that had branded itself into her mind. A sense of understanding overcame her like an epiphany, though she sensed it was Mirmulnir sharing his knowledge with her.  
  
_**‘FUS.’**_

The gale began to recede. Her physical senses began to return to her. She could feel her body being shaken, the voice of the Breton woman shouting in her ear.

_“Mana! Mana can you hear me!”_

That’s right ... her name was _Mana._ But something felt _wrong_ about it.

 **‘Good,’** the dragon hissed to her, **‘Now release me!’**

A sudden stab of panic shot through her heart, _‘No! Don’t leave me!’_

Mirmulnir gave a rumbling laugh, cruelly amused, **‘Oh we will meet again, Dovahkiin, when Alduin devours you. Then he will eat this world, and all of us will rejoin Bormahu.’**

A shiver of unease passed down her spine, like a rush of cold water. _Alduin..._

 **‘Now let me go!’** he roared.

Mana _pushed,_ and Mirmulnir began to fade, separating their minds and souls. Sight and sound returned all at once, leaving her gasping for air. Alaya gave a surprised yell and threw her arms around her neck. “Oh thank Talos!” she cried.

The Khajiit swallowed, ears still ringing. “...Alaya?” she breathed, and then froze. Her breath felt heavier, charged like lightning.

“Don’t scare me like that!” the Breton said angrily, separating them. Mana blinked at her in confusion, before glancing at Mirmulnir’s remains. The dragon was nothing more than a skeleton now. Something about it unsettled her, and she looked back towards her friend. “What _happened?_ ” Alaya asked.

Mana swallowed. “Khajiit doesn’t know...” she croaked. Her throat was raw and ached.

They were interrupted by the remaining guards clambering onto the roof. They eyed Mana in wary surprise, some of them cursing at the dragon’s remains. Irileth followed them closely, her face set into a scowl.

“By the Nine,” one of the guards said to her, “You’re _Dragonborn..._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Alaya looked at the man like he had lost his mind, “What do you mean?”

“Mana would like to know that too,” the Khajiit added, dazed.

“There are legends of heroes who killed dragons and stole their power,” the man said, glancing back at the dragon nervously, “That’s what you did, right?”

Mana frowned, narrowing her eyes. She struggled to her feet, Alaya helping her up. “ _Stole_ his power?” she hissed, “What does that _mean?_ ”

“Try to Shout, then!” said the guard, “If you really are Dragonborn, then you will know how.”

Alaya started to dig into the man, reprimanding him for bothering Mana when she was clearly shaken from the fight. Mana took a few steps back from the arguing humans, looking around at the still smoking battlefield. It would be a while before the tower was usable again.

Mana didn’t quite understand what he had meant by Shouting, but at the same time she knew exactly what he meant. She thought about the Word, felt it rising up through her chest to rest on her tongue. It felt different this time, like if she released it the world would part for her.

She took in a deep breath, turning towards the edge of the tower, and when she breathed out she _Shouted. **“FUS!”** _ The air shook, causing everyone on the roof besides her to stumble. They all stared at her.

“Stendar’s mercy,” Alaya whispered.

The guard she had been arguing with laughed. “You really _are_ Dragonborn!”

They started to bicker again, dragging in Irileth, who had been watching Mana with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Mana went quiet. Her soul hummed. It felt like she had found something she had been missing her whole life. For once, the restlessness that had been following her was gone. If she were honest, it scared her a little, though the feeling of _rightness_ overruled it.

What did this _mean_ though? What had Mirmulnir meant? Who was Alduin, what was he trying to accomplish, and why did if fill her with this horrible sense of dread?

Why did it feel like she was forgetting something _important?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, more headcanon time! Well, they’re more like facts about this AU, and they’re essential to the story either way. One: dragons are genderless, but typically use masculine pronouns when applicable. Two: all dragons are ‘born’ from a spark of Akatosh’s power, which makes them immortal, semi-divine beings despite having physical forms. When they are ‘devoured’ the one eating their soul takes that power, but their actual souls and consciousnesses are released and become one with Akatosh again.
> 
> I learned during research that all dragons have this perk that halves damage from everyone except the player, which was neat. That’s why Mana’s slashes were effective, when arrows had bounced off Mirmulnir’s scales.
> 
> Speaking of Mirmulnir, he can appear as pretty much any base game dragon depending on your level when you fight him. So he can show up as a blood dragon, a frost dragon, an elder dragon, etc. Mana isn’t a novice, but this IS her first dragon fight, and the story doesn’t exactly have a ‘leveling’ system lol. Mirmulnir was also one of the few dragons that wasn’t killed by the Blades – he was alive the whole time, making him nearly as old as Paarthurnax, though I do believe he went into hiding, possibly hibernation. So I described his scales a little differently than I would an average dragon (brown scales). Also, I wanted to give him a bigger role in the story not only because he’s the first dragon Mana kills, but because he is one of the few dragons in Skyrim that has a proper name. And I really like his name too lol.
> 
> I technically already wrote the dragon fight in Winter Nights, but this time I wanted to go into more detail, really flesh out what happened. How I do the scene is different in that story, but this one is the ‘canon’ version for this ‘verse. It was pretty awesome to write.
> 
> Translations:  
> Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde! – (my) overlord will devour your souls in Sovngarde!  
> Krif krin. Pruzah! – Fight courageously. Good!  
> Brit grah – beautiful battle  
> Bahlaan hokoron – worthy enemies / your defeat brings me honor  
> Bormahu – (our) father


End file.
